What's Your Poison?
by Jessie B524
Summary: Don't drink if you're a lightweight. Don't fall asleep in the beds of others. And always talk to your bed partner after a night of wanton drinking. D/C ::SLASH:: Ch. 2 up really soon. R/ NC17 now! Like it did in the story, it just sort of happened.
1. Fall asleep in YOUR OWN BED! CH

Hello. Long time, no writing. So... This is another D/C fic simply because I think maybe one of these times the end will turn out differently... And I think that's the definition of insanity.  
  
So, onto the snogging! Erm... maybe. I can't guarantee anything. David's being fickle. Oh, and I know that part about getting rid of the Sennites was really, really lame. But if I actually took the time to explain it, there'd be a *gasp* plot! To in depth thinking for QT right now. I'm still suffering from reading Sirius' death in HP and OotP... *sniff sniff*  
  
Warnings and/or Consumer reports and whatnot: I do not own David and Christopher. Nor do I own Everworld. That honor belongs to K.A. Applegate. That lucky bitch.   
  
THIS IS SLASH!!!!! ////SLASH//// -- See that! It means pretty boys will be thinking and doing GAY things, as it is so aptly put in some circles. If you don't like that, kindly PISS OFF. I do not tolerate flaming of lifestyles. Flaming of horrible writing... now that's an entirely different matter.   
  
What's Your Poison  
  
There's a reason why David doesn't drink.   
  
Contrary to popular belief, it's not because he wasn't to stay virtuous, or take care of us all while we do, or have the least fun out of anyone in the world. He is a lightweight. I mean, Jalil would've drunk more than him, if April wouldn't have stopped him, and he weighs like seventy pounds less than the General does. That's a small child, or a big dog. Anyway, David is a lightweight. And that fact ruined my party time.   
  
We were partying because the last of the Sennites were dead. It took a lot of dealing, a lot of persuading, and a whole lot more money. But we got guns and managed to kill the Sennites. That's a huge cause for celebration. So all around Mt. Olympus revels that rivaled the hedonism level of all the parties of all the players in all the teams of the NBA and the NFL combined. The Greeks really knew how to party. And my happy delusion that I could enjoy myself, along with a few nymphs and exceedingly willing women, was destroyed by David's drunkenness. April and Jalil /made/ me find him. Apparently he got wasted and then got lost. Like a four-year-old at K-Mart. I tried convincing them that David would be fine on his own. But no, itty bitty Davey has to have a goddamn babysitter. Why the hell did they think I'd do a good job? They probably just wanted to run off and do the wango tango and laugh at me behind my back.   
  
After about a half and hour or so of searching and fending off beautiful people that wanted to sleep with me, I found him. He was passed out, tied to a big stone, and surrounded by a group of women in flowing white robes. They were dancing around him and singing something that might not have had any words. Some were bowing and throwing flowers at him. His normal war gear that he had been wearing was stripped off for the most part. Just his leathery skirt thing the Greeks had him wear, his sword dangling from that, and a bronze band around his forearm that had Athena's face emblazoned on it. I didn't realize until I got closer that he had blood smeared on his chest. Okay, maybe David couldn't take care of himself while he was smashed.   
  
I broke out into a run pushing some of the women out of the way. They looked like a cult. And Greece had cults for everything. Probably one that involved sacrificing Jewish Generals that had been trying to save their asses from getting killed by wacked out, armed and insane Nazis. Not on my watch, you psycho broads.   
  
One wild-eyed woman pointed a dagger at me and yelled, "Intruder!"  
  
"Back off, woman! I know karate!"  
  
"Who is this unbeliever?" someone from the crowd asked contemptuously. "He is interrupting our sacred ritual."  
  
"I am Christopher of Chicago and stop talking like that! Do you know who this guy is? This is General Davideus, people. What are you? Some psycho cult of uber-feminists? You're not laying one hand on him," I raved as tried untying the rope. The women started murmuring and stepped back a little. Good.   
  
"Here," I heard from behind. The woman with the knife dropped it at my feet. "We would not want Athena's wrath for hurting her little soldier boy."  
  
I scowled, but picked it up anyway. When the last threads cut through I threw it behind me, hoping I'd hit one of the bitches. David lolled forward and mumbles something. I went to get him standing right away, but yelled at the women still standing there to get away. The General wasn't making it any easier for me so I was forced to slap him across the face to wake him up. That helped, but yelling, "Hetwan on the charge!" helped even more. He tried standing up and pulling his sword out at the same time, but fell on his stomach instead.   
  
"Come on General," I said pulling on his arm. "Up we go. Heave ho! Let's get going... Christ, you're heavy. I could go for some margaritas. How about you, Dave?" He groaned at that. "Okay now. One foot in front of the other."  
  
With some difficulty and some trepidation, on my part, we were walking/stumbling. I had to put my arm over his shoulders so he wouldn't fall. Something was stuck in my throat. His hot breath floating around my neck and being side to side with the rise and fall of his chest made me... nervous. When he stumbled a bit and put his arm around my back to hold himself up it seemed almost a little too... private. Intimate. It made me shudder.  
  
I didn't know where I was taking him. Out Motel 6 was pretty far away and I doubted if I could keep him upright that long. He was heavy. If only we had a car. Then a lightening blot hit me.   
  
"David. David!"  
  
"Wha'?" He looked up at me with a giddy smile. For some reason that made me nervous also.   
  
"Call your horse."  
  
"Huh? Oh! Hi ho, Silber!" he stuck his arm up in the air which took his balance away. I almost went down with him that time and he found it hilarious.   
  
"No, you idiot," I grunted, wrenching him up. "Pegasus!"  
  
"Oh, oh yeah... Pegasus! Pegasus! PEGASUS! PEGASUSS! PEGSASUSUS! PEGA-"  
  
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" He cast his dark eyes downward and actually pouted. He pouted. I coughed and had to look away. And breathe. What was going on?! The worst thing was that I actually felt bad for making him pout.   
  
Soon enough a luminescent white mass came down swiftly from the black velvet sky. Pegasus fluttered his wings and landed gracefully in front of us, bowing with his wings to let us on. David got on with less trouble than I'd expected and patted Pegasus's mane.   
  
"Okay, pretty bird-horse... Fly, fly away."  
  
"WAIT! Wait!" I climbed on hurriedly so David wouldn't get to altitude, then fall, crashing to his death. "Go to our hotel... Wait. Go to the balcony outside David's room. There's no way I'm going to drag your ass up stairs."  
  
I'd done a lot of things with David. We'd been dragged across universes together. We'd fought each other. We've fought battles together. We've slept in the same bed, numerous times, thanks to April and Jalil. But never have I something with another man that brought so many and varied sexual entendres, jokes, and images. I mean, it's pretty hard to concentrate when a guy like David, who's fairly ripped due to much strenuous activity, is right in front of you and in your line of vision any time you look down. Not too mention the fact you have to hold on to him to keep the both of you from falling off. You know what I mean... You gotta-Never mind. It was kinda funny too. With the sky and the pearl white flying horse. It could've been romantic if David wasn't plastered... Also if David and I were the type to do that sort of thing! Which, of course, we're not. I mean, I'm not-He's not... I'm giving up while I'm behind. Err... whatever.   
  
David stumbled from Pegasus onto his balcony and waved stupidly as the horse flew away. He rolled over and got up himself. Walking inside, apparently looking for something, I felt compelled to follow him. Did David have it this rough when he was supposed to be baby-sitting me? For some reason, I hoped not. He found what he was looking for a pitcher of water. He gulped it down, spilling most of it on his chest. He dropped the pitcher and slapped his chest, right under his collarbone.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I' stings."   
  
I stood close to him and had to restrain his hands to look at the cut. It was from those psycho cult women. Stupid cunts. I didn't know why my rage for them was so prevalent, but I couldn't help it. They were going, at least, to slice up David like a kosher ham. The cut wasn't that bad. He'd had worse, but I cleaned it up nevertheless.   
  
Not knowing what to do, I just watched David. I mean, he was the only thing in the room. What else was I supposed to look at? He kind of stood there and stretched for a minute. He looked at the dark, almost curly, hair on his chest like it was suddenly interesting. Or he was just aware of his own shirtlessness. He was getting pretty tan. Tanner than me. It made his dark eyes darker. In fact with his hair getting longer, to the point where it hung in his eyes most of the time, he was starting to look like a gypsy. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just observing. Then after plucking at the dark trail of hair that led down his stomach, he took off his war skirt get up. It actually had numerous latches and looked quite difficult to wear and/or remove. And this, my friends, is what I forced myself to concentrate on. The war skirt lying in a pile on the floor. Because by taking off Athena's big bronze bracelet, not that it really mattered, David was standing in front of me in nothing but his undies. Dark green Hanes boxer-briefs.   
  
Why did I care? Why didn't I shoot a sarcastic remark his way about it? Why did I get incredibly, stomach-wrenching nervous? And why in utter horror did I think David looked good wearing nothing but his stupid green Hanes. I have no flipping idea. But what I saw made a few parts of me intrigued. It was like, "Hmm, the shape is compelling. Smooth, a little hairy, not nearly Viking hairy. Nice stomach. Not quite flat, but nice. Runner's legs. Hmm, interesting." And another part was like, "Gah! Mixed signals! Oh my god... SENSORY CONFUSION! Abandon shop, Christopher! Whatever you do, stop thinking!" And another part, obviously the /main/ part was saying, "FLESH! Young, tender, nice, supple, lovely flesh... Ass! Skin! Lovely heat, take it Christopher! A body!" Then an argument, "But... There's hair in weird places on this one. And there's obviously different equipment." Response: "Shut up, fool! Warm, unwitting flesh! Through out the rules, Christopher! Have fun while you can!"  
  
I felt like hitting myself in the head. I had to leave, but David collapsed on the bed. What if he vomited in the middle of the night and choke to death? Surely, I'm not that selfish. My anxiety would have to come after David's life... Maybe I was dramatizing things. I mean, going through the little Everworld roller coaster and die choking on your vomit? It was a possibility, but not probable. Still... Despite some parts of me urging, or resisting, to leave, I stayed. I pushed David over a bit. The bed was big enough. And I'd be fine as long as I stopped thinking and faced away from David. Yeah.  
  
A sharp hit to the jaw. Half awake. Half asleep. Gruunnnh... Want sleepy-sleep. Light. Sun? Would turn, but couldn't. Something soft and fuzzy under my chin. Something warm and comfortable pushing a little against my chest. Mmmm... Go back to sleep.  
  
Moaning. Mmm, feels good. Warm sun. Warm body. Where am I? Oh, David's bed... Wait a minute. My arms around the warm body. Wide breadth of chest on warm body. Hair on chest. Nonononono... Okay, Chris, you fell asleep in David's bed. With David. That's not bad. You've had worse wake-ups... So look down. Yes, dark curly hair. You're spooning David. It's okay. Happened before while you were sleeping. Just slip your arm out and turn away before---  
  
"GAAAAA! What the-Oh my... Oh my head!" The warm body was out of bed and standing before I could finish my breath. He moaned and squeezed his forehead together. "Oh Christ..."  
  
"It's Christopher actually, and-"  
  
"What the hell are you doing? What the hell!"  
  
"What?" He pointed at me and I was still confused. He then, more frantically, pointed lower at me. I looked down. "Oh my..."  
  
I had been spooning David in my sleep. With a boner. Oh dear lord... I was suddenly hoping for a freak encounter with a hopped up god that could strike me down right there so I wouldn't have to look up, or move, or speak ever again. I think I made a feeble sound of complete destruction. Embarrassment level: Total. Self-hate level: Towering above the height of eighteen million giants. Self destruction countdown sequence to begin in T-10 seconds and counting... Why does this shit happen to me?   
  
"How does this shit happen to me?" David groaned. "Okay, whatever you dream about, don't the next time you sleep in my bed. My head hurts too much to handle this," he grumbled then walked into the bathroom.   
  
Well, that went better than expected, I thought. Now to just get the hell out of that room. But a vise tightened inside me. A weird fluttery, heart-pounding sensation throbbed (bad choice of word) in my chest, then in my hands. I could feel warmth in my cheeks as I ran down the hall to get to the safety of my room. Only one thought prevailed in the mass confusion of fizzing neurons; David said, "Next time you sleep in my bed."  
  
TBC?!?!?! I think my David muse is just dying to get his say in... 


	2. Seriously, don't get drunk if you're not...

Okay, my David muse wanted to jump on this one really fast. And with swift vengeance. I mean, damn, I didn't think it would turn out this angsty. I wanted it to be amusing, or at least slightly. But David muse not only veered, he made a U-turn, did some figure eights in a cornfield, turned left twice and ran over the only STOP sign in Everworld.   
  
Again, I don't own David, Christopher, or anything else for that matter. All I have are my delusions and obsessions. Please don't take those away from me.   
  
And thank you Kay, for your glowing review! I know it's only been a few days, but I couldn't wait to update it. I hope everyone finds it enjoyable… Or seeming to have a steamy sex scene being this stories only merit. And it isn't even that steamy. Whatever.   
  
WARNING: Danger, Will Robinson, danger!!! THIS IS NOW NC-17!!! I wasn't planning on it, but there it happened. It came as a total surprise to me, so please don't complain to me about it. Complain to the horny teenage boys in my head.   
  
"Focus. Breath. Inhale. Exhale. Steady… Oh good God! This can't be happening!" I screamed at the mirror. "Why me? Why me? Why must you constantly torment me?"   
  
I raged belligerently in the bathroom and would've hit my head against the wall if it hadn't been for my incredible headache. No use in adding injury to insult. I took a deep breath, stopped with the insipid "why me" whining, and stared hard at the mirror. What I saw didn't impress me.   
  
My hair was nappy, almost to the point of not being able to unsnarl it. The length made me look girly, but I had barely enough time to bathe and shave in the morning, let alone get a hair cut. My eyes had heavy bags under them. I never should've drunk a damn thing. I surveyed the rest of my stupid face. Same as always. Same face I've had since I was a kid.   
  
I laid down on the floor and let the cold porcelain invigorate me. All the days of fighting in a screaming rage were catching up to me. My muscles ached like I had just run a marathon. The heat was still on my face from those few minutes before when I woke up with Christopher… I shuddered. I didn't want to know what had happened for… that to happen. He must've been dreaming of Etain, or something, because we've slept in the same bed before and… Oh shit.  
  
Worry washed over my stomach. All my internal organs sank about two feet. I definitely didn't want to get up from the floor. I had just remembered what I said to Christopher before I ran in the bathroom to hide. The NEXT TIME you sleep in my bed Christopher! Dear God, what kind of idiot are you, David? Inviting CHRSITOPHER into your bed, oh as long as he doesn't have a boner next time, it's alright. Grrraaah! You stupid, stupid, stupid… I had to stop thinking because I was pounding my head on the bathroom floor. It really didn't help the headache.   
  
Waking up in the same bed with someone is always scary for me. It always means there was a previous situation, which I was not in control of. Because, well, frankly, I don't allow anyone in my bed and/or sleeping area. It's closed off from visitors and I like to keep it that way. Christopher and I were never the closest so I figured sharing a bed with him, only when absolutely necessary, of course, wouldn't be a problem. It turned it out it was. Especially since Senna's death. But while sleeping he moves a lot. I move a lot. The combination produces odd outcomes that I'd rather not think about. Mainly because the most comfortable sleep I've ever gotten has been with him.   
  
After about two hours of lying on the bathroom floor, thinking about making it my permanent home, I couldn't ignore the polite knocking on the door anymore.   
  
"What?" I growled at a pleasant looking young man, carrying my breakfast tray. I realized only after he had leered at me quite sufficiently that I was wearing less than him.  
  
"Good morning, General Davideus, sir. How are you this fine morn?"  
  
"Not good. Thanks for the food. You must have quite a bit of work to do. Go on and do it. Have a nice day, while you're at it," I said, ushering him out the door. Even though I was rude and angry, he winked at me before I slammed the door in his face.   
  
The various eggs reminded me of the Hetwan, so while I ate I reviewed some maps and made some plans of attack, while occasionally using pieces of food as symbols. Hey, it made the time pass without me thinking about Christopher or anything else uncomfortable. Not thinking about that kind of stuff makes me happy. Just as the Viking fleets of cheese were about to cross the Hetwan bread line, Jalil and April walked in.   
  
"Hey, Dave," she said, her voice drifting from cheery to confused. "Umm…"  
  
"Playing with your food is clothing optional now?" Jalil said in amused tone.   
  
"Oh yeah... I forgot again. And I'm forming a line of offense, smartass," I said ripping off half the Hetwan line and dipping it in a nearby by lake of this guacamole type stuff.   
  
"Have you seen Christopher?" She asked.  
  
"No!" I said that a little bit louder than I hoped I would. Then I nearly chocked on my bread when I tried to cover it up. "No, not since he brought me up here."  
  
"Oh," April's mouth curved slightly into a tiny frown. Jalil was unfazed. He probably knew I was lying, or trying to hide something, but either didn't realize what, or care. "Aren't those his shoes?"  
  
She was pointing to a muddy, lifeless looking pair of size 13 Nikes. Mine were obliterated, size 10, black and white (currently all black) nameless running shoes.   
  
"Must've left them here," I said lamely. I could feel the redness on my cheeks. Who would leave their shoes in someone else's room? Stupid, stupid Christopher…   
  
"Why would he—?" Jalil started, probably the question I was asking myself, but was then cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs from April. She smile brightly and pushed Jalil away.   
  
"I'll just go take those back to him then. I wanted to talk to him anyway."  
  
She picked up the shoes, pinching the tongues together so the very least of her skin touched them, and damn near dragged Jalil out of the room with her. Now, I wouldn't normally have done this, but I followed them and listened behind the door. There was something about the way April looked at me and then stopped Jalil from saying anything. She definitely had an "I-have-to-tell-you-something-but-not-in-front-of-David-or-he'll kill-me" face. I was right too.  
  
"What was that all about?" Jalil asked sharply.   
  
"Christopher didn't just leave his shoes there when he dropped him off last night. I mean, that's really lame. And did you see David blush? And the way he jumped on when I asked if he'd seen Chris?"  
  
"Yeah, obviously he was lying, but why—?"  
  
"And since when does /David/ lounge around without any clothes on?"  
  
"I don't know. I really don't keep records," he said quickly, before she cut him off.   
  
"Christopher spent the night in David's room," she said in a low voice. My heart started pounding a little weaker just then.   
  
"Yeah, so what? They have a lot before. Maybe Christopher took on a sense of decency to make sure David didn't… I don't know, do something stupid while he was drunk. But knowing Christopher he probably just passed out there."  
  
"Then he'd still have his shoes on, wouldn't he?"  
  
"Fine then. Got really drunk and wanted to beat David to death with his shoes but then passed out? I don't know. What's your point with the shoes April?"  
  
"David and Christopher slept together!"  
  
"They've slept in the same—Oh… wait… Say what? I don't think so. Those two homophobes."  
  
"Exactly! Do you know why people are homophobic?"  
  
"… they're denying something." I could almost hear the quizzical eyebrow shoot up to his hairline. It was easy to hear since my damn heart had stopped!  
  
"Yes. David was drunk. Christopher probably got drunk after he brought David back to his room. They've obviously both been sad since their respective female love interests went /bye-bye./ Sad… and lonely. And with both of them not thinking clearly about the consequences… Well, I don't think it's that farfetched."  
  
I listened intently for the next few seconds, but no sounds came. They had walked away. I could feel a slow thud in my chest again as soon as I walked away from the door. My heart felt like lead, moving slowly and weighing itself down to the bottom of my stomach. Surely, April and Jalil wouldn't say anything to Christopher about their suspicions. And they wouldn't come back to talk to me about it. Well, what could I do but deny it! I mean, I did NOT sleep with Christopher. We just fell asleep and somehow wound up in the same bed. We were fully clothed. Well, Chris was… The weight in my stomach sunk a lot lower.  
  
I groaned. I didn't remember anything from the night before. Well, not much. I remember white towels, or sheets. Flying, but that had to be my imagination. Some thing or someone holding me for a really long time. Then more clearly, I remember the bedroom. My bedroom. I drank some water. My cuts hurt. (My cuts? What the hell had I been doing?) Christopher was there… watching me take my clothes off. I must've been wearing a lot because it felt like forever. But I knew Christopher was watching me take off my clothes and I didn't yell at him, or tell him to leave or anything. In fact I turned towards him. I… I smiled at him. Then I fell asleep. And I woke up with Aroused Christopher spooning me… Gah!  
  
I sat down, rather quickly on the floor. I was hoping there was a chair behind me. There wasn't, but that's livable. I rubbed my eyes hard. My temples were beginning to throb. For the first time the whole morning, I felt suddenly exposed and cold. An arctic blast had blown in through my room. If I didn't leave soon I would get frostbitten. I fumbled around quickly through my drawers. Raggedy, torn, stained sweats. Pretty much the only thing I had left from the Old World besides my underwear. They could survive one more run, I told myself.   
  
The running had cleared my mind for a short while. I didn't really need to concentrate on much while I ran. The pulsating blood pumping through my struggling limbs. My lungs bursting, enflamed waiting for one short, abrasive surge of oxygen. My muscles felt weak and shaky afterwards. When I got back to my room, I let myself collapse. I had been running for too long. I felt absolutely feeble. I'd felt that way far too many times before to describe it with less than excruciating accuracy. But at least, this time, I had done it to myself. No outside pressure. No one else was manipulating me to do what they wanted me to do. I was hurt and exhausted, but of my own will.   
  
Its ironic how I should do things like that only to remind me how most of the time, everything is out of my control. Everything that happens to me is out of my jurisdiction. Then a slim, confident, sly voice says, "But it is your fault. You could stop it, but you just don't." That's when everything I thought I had grip on loosens. I either work harder, pushing it out of sight, but let it remain, nagging me in the back of my brain or grab a hold of it and let it take me, just so, maybe, I can forget it once. I usually let it nag me into a physical breakdown, or something close to that. That night, just like the night before, I decided to say, "Fuck it."   
  
I was allowed one tiny little break in my life, right? I didn't have to be the upstanding, lifesaver, son-of-a-stupid-fool-hero all the time, did I? Nothing was ever constant in life. Why did David Levin have to be?  
  
Again I don't remember much, but I know a few things. It started with a bottle of wine from the breakfast tray. Then more at lunch. More and more alcohol. More people. April and Jalil wanted to talk to me, but we couldn't I knew what they wanted to talk about. No need to talk about that. Christopher (where had he come from?) told them to lay off. But then there was a huge fight and no more April or Jalil. We sat on the floor, drank, and made off color comments to each other. Why this? Why that? Why aren't there any vampires, or werewolves, in Everworld? Who cares? Have another shot, or a glass, or a pint. We played baseball in my room. Chris almost fell off the balcony so we sobered up for a while. We talked about Senna and Etain and how women aren't good for anything and screw you over in the end. There was a long blur of activity from then until I puked off the balcony. That brought me back to earth a little.   
  
It was dark out by that time. Christopher was dragging me to my bed. I think I couldn't stand. We got there. After endless twirling and giant jerking halts, we got there. I don't know why it was so damn important.   
  
He was on top of me. He didn't have a shirt on either and I thought it was funny. I told him and he touched my face. More skin than I thought I could bare was touching me. His chest. It was skinnier than mine and his hair was only just visible. I remember that vividly. I think I was starting to sober up a little more at that point. My sweating forehead felt cold. His hand warmed me. His other hand went down my pants and I gasped, as it felt cold there. But the more I inhaled, the more his stomach was still pressed against mine. It made me shiver. His face brushed against mine. Fair, soft, high cheek-boned cheek to wider, hollow, dusky cheek. My wide bridged nose bumped his narrow one. His blue eyes bore into my brown ones. His thinner, pinker, curvier lips brushed, smashed, and explored my own.   
  
My senses were definitely becoming more acute. The heat had risen. The friction had mounted. Our clothes were finding their way on the floor. Not through one second of this had either of us thought. Not through the focusing of eyes, the sobering of minds, had we stopped to ask or say a word. It just clicked. It simply was. Courtesy, and gentleness, was long forgotten.   
  
He pulled my hair. I bit his shoulder. We were grinding against each other. With the heat and moans rising, one of us realized that we either had to stop or complete the act. There was no asking. Or taking or giving. It was when it happened, however little sense that makes. It seemed surreal. Like we were still affected by the alcohol. But deep down, you know, it's mostly in your mind. To a certain extent, it is the chemicals in your body, but behind that, it's really nothing you've never thought about doing.   
  
There was intense heat of friction. Little jolts of electricity shot down my spine, causing me to arch my back and shudder. There was incessant touching, never letting go. There was pain. But he gripped the sides of my stomach or the insides of my thighs and smothered my choked noises with his mouth. Our bodies writhed and twisted, then in the motion there was finally light and pleasure. Pleasure that allowed both of us to speak. It was stupid, incoherent rambling, but speaking nonetheless. Slowly our bodies stopped rocking. Covered in sweat, Christopher dropped on top of me.   
  
Then, and only then, was I confused as all hell. I was searching for feelings or thoughts that would make me throw Christopher off me and yell and scream. But nothing came. I didn't feel violated or used. I didn't feel worthless or empty. There was silence, not scared, not awkward or expecting. It was just enough silence that I could hear my own heart and his beating, still quickly and half a beat apart. He shifted on his side and I moved with him, not knowing what else to do. He was eye level with me and both our eyes were wide open. Silence again. He held a finger to my lips, which almost felt like breaking the silence. Then he moved up a little, so our feet were level, and gently ran his fingers through my hair, until his entire body relaxed and he was sleeping. For the first time, in very, very long, I felt content.   
  
When I woke up, I was still riding a mild euphoria of contentment. Looking around, I saw Christopher was gone. I didn't look around wildly, or even think about going to his room. What would be the point? He had obviously done what everyone else in my godforsaken life had planned for me. Fuck up David then leave. What fun is there without it?  
  
I stood out of bed, totally naked, and tried not to feel the least bit of sadness. Tried not to feel any sort of heaviness in my limbs. It had been nothing, after all. Just a night of stupid drunkenness. I was glad it was over. Really.   
  
  
  
TBC?!  
  
That was certainly more than I expected from David muse. I guess a year or so of being locked away in a cage in the basement leaves you with quite a bit of pent up… everything. I hope my Christopher muse is up to the challenge of following this chapter up. 


End file.
